Eat the dirt
by fukuji mihoko
Summary: This was all an accident, a misunderstanding; but it keeps getting worse and worse. Battler soon learns that love can do some truly twisted things to people... himself included. :onesided Ronove/Battler, Battler/Beato, dubcon?, set during ep6:
1. One

**Eat the dirt  
><strong>Part one

* * *

><p>The rose garden in the Golden Land was unusually subdued. It had once been a place filled with life; the roses blooming beautifully, golden butterflies flitting from flower to flower, whilst the scent of tea and the noisy chatter from witches' tea parties drifted through the air.<p>

But the golden roses weren't so beautiful, or so golden, anymore.

Beato's tender magic had allowed them to flourish- but now, without their lady to protect them, they had begun to wilt. It was a slow and steady process, but it was now clear eventual decay was inevitable. There was no salvaging them. Small insects had begun to gnaw at the leaves, the roots were shrivelling and turning to dust and they were no longer to support themselves proudly, so their heads were bowed as though in humiliation.

The roses were turning grey.

The slightest breath of air sent more petals drifting through the air. They were soon scattered against the cold, hard soil or the dying grass.

It was just another reminder of Beato's pitiful state.

Beato couldn't tend to this garden anymore.

This garden was her perfect world, her paradise, her dream… but what dreams could a dead girl have?

Beatrice couldn't hold tea parties here anymore. She couldn't sit in her Golden Land and bicker with Gaap about new fashion trends; wail and pout and whine as Virgilia tried to coax her into eating a little mackerel stew; sketch pictures of new magical friends for the _Mariage Sorcière with Maria; or sit and sip black tea and 'delicately' eat Ronove's delicious pastries and cookies._

_Well… Beato tried to be 'delicate', but she- despite being a thousand year old witch- hadn't quite mastered that elusive art yet. She had an unfortunate habit of stuffing Ronove's cookies into her mouth as though each bite would be her last, until her lips were covered in crumbs and her cheeks bulged like a hamster's__._

_Then again, that was Beato all over._

_She was always full of so much life and energy- and her secret garden in the Golden Land had reflected that._

_It had been beautiful._

_But it wasn't anymore._

_If Beato was here, it would be different…_

_But she wasn't._

_It was just another painful reminder that she wasn't._

_Battler hated this maudlin, melancholic atmosphere. The Golden Land had reflected Beato's personality- and, now she was gone, it had begun to fall apart. Beato might have created this universe… but there was no trace of Beato left anymore._

_Battler really, really hated it._

_And yet, despite that… he felt the closest to Beato here. The Golden Land was Beato's world, and her own private retreat, where she had passed so many of her days with her friends- and Battler was sure those happy memories were still helping to support this place, just a little._

_Battler felt the closest to Beato here._

_Being here was, at the same time, very painful… but very comforting._

_Battler would still come and sit under the arbor, and drink his tea, and look about his surroundings; all the while trying to pretend the roses were still golden, the butterflies still flickered in the air, and the breeze smelt of tea and pastries instead of decay and rot._

_He'd perhaps been fantasizing a little too much lately… but there was nothing wrong with that… was there?_

_His own life was so miserable and joyless at the moment it made far more sense to deceive himself into experiencing some form of happiness; even if that happiness was a lie._

_A soft question soon interrupted Battler's maudlin thoughts; _"Would you care for some more tea, Lord Battler?"

Battler didn't answer.

It had gone over his head completely. It was doubtful Battler was aware he was sharing somebody else's company at all; let alone that this other person was talking to him.

Instead of responding, the territory lord continued to stare blankly at his fingertips spread out on the tabletop; using his free hand used to prop up his head. If he didn't have anything supporting his head, he was sure it would have fallen against the table with an ungainly _bump_.

His whole body felt so heavy. It took too much effort to even move the tips of his fingers.

It was a struggle just keeping his eyes open.

This must have been what _she_ felt like in the last game.

Just… tired.

Exhausted.

Battler wasn't suffering from a physical pain or affliction; nothing of the sort. This wasn't anything like the times he'd been tortured by those damn ass nee-chans, or even when Beato had fed him to the goats during the second game.

It might have sounded melodramatic… but this was a pain, or, no… maybe, a _sickness_ of the heart- and was slowly draining all of Battler's energy.

Just as the Golden Land was falling into a state of disrepair… so was Battler.

And magic couldn't even hope to fix this.

'_Come, try and remember what form you once had… I'm sure it was very beautiful… …'_

Magic might have been incredible… but a spell like that could only piece fragments of a broken vase back together, or re-knit bone and muscle so the fingers could bend once more, the heart could beat and the eyelids could flutter open.

Endless magic couldn't save Battler.

It hadn't been able to save Beato.

Beato was a 'thousand year old witch'- or maybe just a lonely maid nursing a broken promise and an unachievable dream… but not even Beato, with her demon friends and her array of fearsome magic, could find a way to tear out the roots of love that twisted the shape of her heart.

She hadn't been able to bring her prince back.

And so the princess turned into a witch… and her dainty fingers soon became stained bright red with blood.

'Magic' was only an illusion, after all. The killer was definitely a human. Beato's tale was definitely solvable.

Battler had solved it.

And now, he wished he hadn't.

If he allowed himself to believe in magic beyond Purgatorio, maybe he could hold onto the hope that a witch really had committed those horrible crimes.

Maybe he could have fooled himself into believing this wasn't his fault.

_But it was._

Beato had told him.

"_Because of your sin, people die."_

Why hadn't Battler listened to her? _Why _hadn't he accepted the witch? In some cases, the truth was too painful to learn… and he hadn't gained anything from it when he finally understood.

He discovered it too late.

He could never apologize for his sin now.

How could one ever hope to gain the forgiveness of a corpse lying, dead-eyed, in a casket; covered with golden roses?

The 'Beato' Battler had revived, using his skills as a territory lord and a few ancient tomes of old magic, was nothing like the original at all. Her appearance was exactly the same- but that only made Battler feel worse.

She was so shy, so soft, so sweet and _innocent_, just like a young child.

_Just like Shannon was, before he broke her heart_.

She was the Beato before the white pony and the promise and the letter he wrote but forgot to send; the telephone calls he thought of making, but always decided against; the promises of happily ever after a skinny twelve-year-old with stupid hair could never hope to fulfil.

The new Beatrice was the hopeful, wide-eyed, innocent girl… before he broke her heart.

When 'Beatrice' looked up at him, love bubbling in her eyes and shining across her face, it _stung_.

She should have hated him.

Battler would have been happy if she hated him.

She should have cackled at him; hit him with her pipe; fed him to the goats; abused him and teased him and mocked him again and again, because that was _Beato _and that was what _Beato _did- and that was Battler deserved.

But this chick-Beatrice did none of those things.

She couldn't- because she wasn't Beatrice.

And she never would be.

She would never be the girl Battler had to apologize to… and she would never be the woman Battler had begun to love.

Magic had been unable to provide this tale with a happy ending… so, maybe it was useless.

Yeah. It really was… … all useless…

"Lord Battler? More tea… …?"

Battler was finally pulled out his thoughts by a quiet voice; polite, and maybe filled with… compassion?

It was Ronove.

Battler didn't know how long the demon butler had been calling his name. Perhaps it was quite a while. Ronove must have become accustomed to it by now, though. Battler was starting to develop a bad habit of drifting off into thought; sometimes mid-way through conversation.

But, just because Ronove was slowly becoming accustomed to it, it didn't mean he was comfortable with it.

"Ah, um… sorry… I was kind of spacing out there, ihihi. S-sorry…"

And yet, despite this false bravado, Battler could not look Ronove in the eye. Battler simply couldn't look at Ronove; not when the demon butler was acting so uncharacteristically concerned. The shift in Ronove's nature, from being mischievous and teasing to genuinely sympathetic, was just further proof to Battler that his own behavior had changed so radically.

Ha… he knew he was screwed, when even _demons _thought he was too pitiable to laugh at.

"That's quite alright. I imagine you're under a lot of stress; trying to create the next game to please Miss Erika and Lady Bernkastel. It's only natural you would be lost in thought. Milady was frequently the same when she crafted her own games."

"Eh? Beato was?" Battler raised a brow; a very small smile rising to his lips. "Did she get really flustered if she couldn't sort her storyline straight and got writer's block? Did she throw huge temper tantrums and bully those poor ass nee-chans?"

Perhaps it should have been depressing discussing Beato- and, in a way, it was… but at least this conversation reminded him that cackling, ill-tempered witch _had _once existed.

At least it proved… she wasn't a delusion…

"Ah, you do have quite an advanced understanding of Milady's character," said Ronove, returning Battler's smile with one of his own. "She is quite childish… so when she found errors in her narrative, or couldn't decide on which roles to assign certain pieces, her temper could be quite formidable indeed. Miss Virgilia and I had to rescue the seven sisters from time to time, when Milady grew so bad-tempered she used them as bowling pins, pin cushions or stress balls, pu ku ku~"

"Ihihi, how terrible~ That sounds exactly like that horrible witch. Well~" Battler grinned; leaning back in his chair. "With me as territory lord, I guarantee that the ass nee-chans won't be treated so shamefully! As a man, I simply can't allow cute girls to be abused!"

"My, my, how admirable. I'm sure the seven sisters will be very happy."

"Yeah, I bet~ Ahaha, having a harem of scantily-clad girls will be so fuuuun- but it'd just be a pain if they all hated me! I'll be super kind to them so they all love me, and then they'll be slaves who have to what~e~ver depraved thing I want, ihihi! I'm using all my intelligence here, right? Heh. Maybe they'll be so grateful at my generosity they'll give me an all-body massage! I can't wait!"

"Aha… what a… noble goal," said Ronove; laughing a little at Battler's perverse daydreams. "However, I'm not sure Miss Lucifer would enjoy doing that…"

"Nah. She just acts stubborn, but I _know _she loves me really. It's impossible not to! Everybody does!"

"Well, quite. And I assure you, Lord Battler… … even if the seven sisters refuse, I would be _more _than happy to massage you in their place, pu ku ku~"

Battler's smile froze.

His left eye twitched slightly.

Ronove… was getting pretty close there- and he didn't like the eerie smile on his face…

"A-aha, hey, wait… I-I think I'll pass on that offer. It wouldn't be the same with a guy. S-something like a massage needs to be done by a team of sexy girls!"

"Suit yourself. I'm just trying to be helpful~"

"Y-yeah… I bet you are… …"

"And, speaking of being helpful…" The teasing smile was now replaced with a more polite, cordial one (i.e. it was a smile that didn't make Battler's skin crawl). "I have asked you this several times before, but I believe you weren't paying attention. Would you like any more tea, Lord Battler? I'm sure your old cup must be stone cold by now."

Was it really? Hadn't Ronove refilled it only a few minutes ago?

Battler took the willow-patterned cup gingerly. Then, he frowned- evidently shocked.

It was just like Ronove said. The cup was completely cold. Not a trace of warmth remained. The half-drunk dregs of tea had even lost their tantalizing aroma, and now looked thoroughly unappetizing.

How much time had passed?

It must have been quite a lot, for his tea to get that cold…

But… Battler didn't know.

He didn't know how long he'd been lost inside his own head.

Had he been sat there, eyes empty, unmoving, like that strange stuffed vulture his grandma used to own, for… a matter of _hours?_

No wonder Ronove looked so worried.

"Ah, yeah," Battler replied, trying to stifle his surprise, "I'd love some more tea, thanks."

"Certainly, Lord Battler."

"Oh, and, please don't call me 'Lord' anymore. It's kind of embarrassing. I don't think a grand title like that really suits me, you know?"

"…Mm. I think you might be right there, pu ku ku~"

"H-hey!" Battler pouted; arms folded. "Well, y-you weren't meant to _say _it! That's so rude! Geez!"

"Oh?~ Did I really something offensive? Surely not! You must have misheard me."

"Ihihi… Yeah, right… y-you damn bastard…"

Battler watched as Ronove summoned the teapot with a few golden butterflies. It was a trick Battler had witnessed so many times it was hardly worth noting anymore- but he still found it interesting.

Ronove used magic more artfully than Beato, thought Battler with a sad smile. Ronove's movements were far more elegant, practised and well-rehearsed, and he used less butterflies whilst summoning things to create a more tasteful effect.

Beato, despite her intricate hairstyle and dress, had never been the most refined or lady-like of people. She abused magic to create any number of disgusting deaths, and her laugh had been high-pitched; sometimes bordering on manic, at other times crossing the border between 'sanity' and 'insanity' altogether and tearing it apart in her wake.

But, even so, Battler still missed her… …

He wanted that cackling witch back.

She could hurl abuse at him, or torture him, or laugh in his face, or call him a liar… but he would accept it. He deserved it.

Now that Battler understood the reasoning behind Beato's behavior- or her 'heart', if you will- he couldn't bring himself to hate her. He only despised himself.

Conversing like this with Ronove was fine. Battler truly enjoyed spending time in the other demon's company, and sometimes Ronove's light-hearted comments were able to make him smile, or laugh, or just forget how miserable he was.

But Ronove wasn't Beatrice.

Nobody could replace Beatrice. Not even that girl who called herself 'Beatrice', but wasn't really- even though she looked so similar… a-and would be so easy to manipulate… …

Surely, she would anything her father asked, wouldn't she? She'd do anything… because she trusted him… …

It would be a lie if Battler said he had never considered asking the chick Beato to do certain things for him forbidden for a girl who called him 'father'; just like it would be a lie to say Battler had never sat up at night, tortured by the thoughts of those cruel words, those narrowed eyes, that teasing smirk, as Beatrice the Golden Witch whispered into his ear or nagged at his lips with hers'…

Battler couldn't help it.

He just wanted to be close to Beato again. He wanted to hold her in his arms, that sadistic, childish, immature, cruel, heart-broken and lonely and incredibly precious GoldenWitch, and kiss her as if she was a princess and he was a prince.

He wanted to apologize.

He... was in love her.

Now he thought about it, he'd always had a bit of a crush on her; right from the moment when they met at the family conference, and she was the clumsy maid who forgot her keys all the time, and Battler had helped her find them once so she wouldn't get scolded by Aunt Natsuhi.

How long ago had that been?

Maybe… fourteen, thirteen years?

That was the first time they'd had a real conversation- and it all started to develop from there.

He… really had cared about her.

And he still did.

And that tentative, nervous, childish crush Battler had nursed was now evolving into something a lot more complicated.

_Love_.

He wanted to take Beato in his arms, and kiss her pale skin, and take the bobby pins out of her golden hair, and slide her heavy dress down off her shoulders (he was sure all that material must have been annoying to wear, anyway)… … and show her just how much he loved her.

But the chick Beatrice was _not _that Beato.

Battler knew he couldn't have that kind of relationship with a girl who called him 'father'. Even if she would have been willing (she'd do _anything _to please her 'father') she wouldn't understand, and it would only leave a bitter aftertaste for Battler later.

When he thought about commanding that young girl in such a way, like she was some kind of sex toy instead of a human… it made him feel sick.

He couldn't help his thoughts, he couldn't; trying was useless, it was all useless…

But he always felt disgusted with himself afterwards.

Maybe that was why he was spending so much time with Ronove. The demon butler was nothing like Beato, so Battler felt safe in his company. When Battler was with Ronove, talking and smiling and occasionally drinking cups of tea or eating cookies (Battler would accept Ronove's because there was no love attached; but he couldn't bear to touch the cookies _she_ had made), he could forget Beatrice.

He could forget, and be happy.

At least, for a few moments.

But, when Battler really thought about it… wasn't he using Ronove as a method to forget his own sadness? And, when he thought of it that way… wasn't that a little selfish?

Was he… being selfish?

"Battler?"

Again, Battler was brought back from his daydreams with a rather painful bump. Ronove was looking into his eyes worriedly; a fresh cup of tea proffered in one gloved hand- and Beato's butler was actually getting pretty close there, standing by his side like that…

W-when had he gotten that close?

Why… did he look so worried?

_It must be because you're acting so pathetic._

Battler cringed at this thought; face turning light pink from embarrassment. W-why was he having thoughts about Beato like that _now_, anyway?

Those weren't the sort of thoughts that should have been running around his head whilst in the company of other people; especially not that damn demon butler…

What Battler had jokingly said to Aunt Eva during the first game had been true, after all.

"_Ah, I'm sorry~ Please don't tell anybody my head's constantly filled with so much dirty stuff, okaaay? Ihihi~"_

Battler sighed.

_F-fuck… I-I really am… that useless…_

He couldn't stop his fingers from trembling. His body still felt heavy, as if he wasn't entirely in control of it- but he couldn't keep Ronove waiting, holding that cup of tea for him to take until it went cold. I-if he remained motionless, Ronove would begin to suspect something was wrong (as if he didn't suspect it already), and that could lead to questions, and questions would unearth feelings… and Battler would be damned before he discussed his feelings with _anybody_.

He felt embarrassed and sentimental and _stupid _enough for having such a dorky fantasy; he didn't want another person to know and judge him, either.

"O-oh, sorry, ihihi… M-man, I'm really not all there right now. It's the stress of making a new game board, guess it's finally got to me despite my youth?" Battler babbled. He tried to sound natural, but he couldn't; it was almost impossible- and his face was still suspiciously flushed, but he couldn't hide_ that_ either.

"Battler…? Are you alright?" asked Ronove gently. "I understand being a game master is a very difficult challenge, but… is the stress the only thing bothering you? I don't want to pry into your personal matters, but you're… starting to worry me."

"Y-yeah, um… the stress is the only thing. That's all."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm fine, really…"

Inwardly, Battler kicked himself. He'd been playing that damn game with red and blue truth with Beato three times now, trying to pick out lies in Beato's narration and find the real culprit- so why was he such a bad liar himself? It was obvious, from the misplaced stutter in his voice, that he was lying; even an idiot could have seen that.

And Ronove certainly wasn't an idiot.

Ronove also had the added advantage of being somebody who cared about Battler a great deal. Battler wasn't sure why this was. It might have been because he was now Ronove's 'Master', in a sense- or maybe it was because they frequently talked together… so maybe they could have been considered 'friends'.

That was why Ronove cared.

So Ronove, being both quite intelligent _and _genuinely concerned over Battler's welfare, was able to catch that feeble lie incredibly easily.

"Creating a new game can be very hard work," said Ronove, voice soft and soothing. "This is your first time doing it… and you're up against a fearsome opponent, no less. But, please don't worry about it so much. I have confidence in you."

"Heh. And what are you basing that confidence on?"

"Well…~ I am sure you will succeed- both at creating this game, and resurrecting Milady. You're stubborn, so I can hardly see you backing down from a challenge~ If nothing else… I'm sure you won't give up. It's a very admirable quality, really… and I am sure, if Milady was here, she would feel the same. You're not the only one who misses her, you know."

"Ha… aha…" Battler sighed. "Was I really _that _obvious?"

"Mm. Well, just a little," said Ronove, with a soft laugh.

"Tch… _Great_."

"But, please don't worry, Battler. I, too, feel grief over Milady's fate... But I have such a large amount of faith in you I'll try not to be upset- because I am sure you'll be able to revive her."

And then, Ronove smiled.

It was such a warm, understanding smile that Battler felt his heart- twisted though it was- flutter slightly. Nobody had smiled at Battler like that in such a long time. If Beato were here, she would have cackled and hit Battler upside the head, calling him useless, pathetic, a miserable human who couldn't solve the simplest of riddles. And maybe Battler thought that of himself, as well.

But Ronove didn't.

The confidence Ronove showed in him… really did make Battler feel better.

"Sure, sure," Battler muttered- trying to quell his blush through sheer willpower. "Whatever you say. It's not like I was going to give up anyway, I-I… I… a-aaa…"

But Battler's voice soon cut off; replaced, at the end, with a startled gasp.

His eyes widened slightly.

Battler had reached out to take the cup of tea Ronove was still offering him- but his fingers were still trembling; mind more focused on blonde hair and blue eyes than the Darjeeling in the cup; and, well… maybe it was only inevitable he would drop it.

Battler had never been the most careful person to begin with, anyway. He'd fallen down the stairs more than once when he was a child, and Battler distinctly remembered Jessica almost rupturing something through laughter when he split his dinner down his front _then _fell off his chair during one family conference.

It was actually more surprising he hadn't spilt Ronove's tea down his front before now, when he thought about it.

The teacup fell to the floor, as per the laws of gravity. It shattered upon impact; the myriad of jagged-edged pieces forming a strange pattern that looked eerily like 'Woman With a Flower' by Picasso.

However, Battler was a little too concerned with the scaling hot liquid soaking his pants to pay much heed to that- so the strange little miracle went unnoticed and uncommented on.

Lady Bernkastel would have been quite disappointed.

Battler supposed it was a good thing that the tea was still hot. It meant that this time, unlike the last, he hadn't departed from the land of living long enough for it become undrinkable. But, sadly, Battler really couldn't see this in a positive light.

Not when it was _burning his skin_.

It was strange how human beings reacted to pain. Battler was sure dropping tea on himself was at least two hundred times _less _painful than being fed alive to those goat butlers- but that didn't really mean anything.

This _still _hurt.

It hurt quite a bit.

Argh… W-why was he such an idiot? If Jessica was here, she'd be laughing at him- Battler knew it.

Beatrice would've found it funny as well; Battler knew she would. In fact, Beato was the kind of woman who'd pour tea over his head herself, just for fun.

Beato would definitely do something like that, because she had a warped sense of humor- but maybe she had a right to be a little warped, given everything she had been through…

Everything _Battler _had put her through… …

"H-huh… …?"

Suddenly, a tremor ran through Battler's body, as something _clicked _into place in his brain. The hot tea had scrambled Battler's pain receptors until it felt like he was being pricked repeatedly with sharp pins- but there was another pressure on his right thigh now; a gentle one.

It was Ronove- and he was trying to wipe the spilt tea off Battler's clothes.

Battler's eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but his words caught in his throat, and he had to stutter a little before he could get them out.

Ronove was _touching _him- and, though it was very soft, h-his hands were…

T-they were getting dangerously close to his crotch…

Nobody had touched Battler that intimately in ages; nobody, except Battler himself, when he sat in his white-washed room and imagined he was with one of the ass nee-chans, o-or bunny girls, or sometimes even Beato (although that was a dangerous line of fantasy to go down).

Battler bit his lower lip. If he didn't, he was sure he'd moan… a-and that would be _incredibly _embarrassing; especially when Ronove was a _guy_…

O-oh _fuck_, Ronove was another guy- a-and he was, he was… H-his fingers were skirting round anything too sensitive; and he cleaning the spilt tea very gently- but those touches only made Battler feel even more eerily aroused. The pinpricks of the hot tea seeping through his clothes was still there, but now it was coupled with Ronove's caring touch, which created a conflicting mish-mash of sensations that made Battler shiver.

If he let his eyelids flutter shut, he could almost imagine the person teasing him cruelly like this was Beato herself; whispering into his ear 'are you having fun yet, Battleeeer?~ I won't touch any~thing~ unless you tell me you want iiiit, kyahahahaaa~'

Y-yeah, that'd be the kind of thing Beato would say; i-it'd be the sort of thing she'd say if she wasn't _dead_, and the person touching Battler wasn't _Ronove_, b-but…

A-aah… W-when Battler thought of _Beato_, he just…

He just…

"A-aa…"

Damn.

Damn damn _damn._

Battler's cheeks were turning bright red, and his breathing was ragged, forced and heavy- a-and, _fuck_, h-he was starting to get aroused; he was getting hard, j-just from a little contact like _this_, and, a-and… …

He had to stop this.

He _had _to.

Battler's relationship with Ronove was one of the few things in Purgatorio that Battler could still truly enjoy.

That, and the taste of Ronove's tea and cookies.

Their relationship was a simple one; a vague 'friendship' based on teasing each other back and forth- and Battler had found, to his surprise, he was able to joke with Ronove as easily as if the demon butler had been one of his friends from school.

Though Battler was loathe to admit it, his friendship with Ronove meant quite a lot to him He didn't want to fuck that up- especially not now.

Not when Beato was dead, Lady Bernkastel was threatening to devour the game board containing Battler's family, and Battler had never felt so miserably, pathetically alone and friendless.

Battler didn't want his relationship with Ronove, whatever it was, to become strained and awkward from something like _this_- he didn't want that all; h-he at least wanted _this _to not fall to pieces- but it would, it was going to, because he couldn't control his own body, and he couldn't stop thinking about _her_.

Damn…

This was even worse than the time Battler had watched a movie with his family, and there was a _really _attractive blonde actress in it, and Battler couldn't control his thoughts properly so… … well, the end result was pretty embarrassing. Battler hadn't been able to look at that damn old bastard for ages afterwards, who'd taken great delight in making jokes about it.

What would Ronove do when he noticed?

Battler couldn't let him notice… …

_F-fuck…_

Hand trembling badly, torn between leaning into Ronove's touch or pushing him away entirely, Battler reached forwards- and clasped his fingers tightly round Ronove's wrist.

He tried to sound commanding- but it was useless; it was all useless.

"W-what the hell are you doing…?"

His voice was strained, and it cracked at the start; breaking just like the teacup had moments earlier. It was instantly obvious something was definitely wrong- and Ronove had grasped that, too, given the look he gave Battler.

"I'm just trying to clean up the spilt tea?" Ronove said; his voice more a question than an answer. "Forgive me, I'm sure you're capable of cleaning yourself, but… despite that, you didn't make any attempt to do so. I was worried you would get scalded if you didn't clean the tea, hence my current behavior. I'm sorry if it was inappropriate…?"

"H-hn? Y-you mean, that was… ah…"

Battler's face turned an even deeper shade of red. So, he'd been thrown into this situation because of his own stupidity- and Ronove, despite his occasional flirtatious comments, hadn't meant anything by this?

So, Battler was getting aroused by a mere act of kindness… that wasn't supposed to mean anything else at all.

Well, _good_; Battler was glad it wasn't supposed to be anything else. Purgatorio was complicated enough as it was, with its layers of meta and blue-haired loli detectives, without starting a weird BL storyline like this.

Battler really didn't need something like this to worry about as well.

But, truthfully… the light, intimate touch hadn't been unwelcome; it hadn't at all. Maybe Battler had just been happy somebody was showing him some kindness; but it was more than that, wasn't it? I-it must have been, if the memory of those fingertips tracking across his skin still brought a blush to his cheeks.

He hadn't reacted like that because the person touching him had been Ronove, though.

The whole time, Battler had been imagining it was Beato.

When he opened his eyes, to see not Beato but her butler looking at him worriedly, it felt like Battler's blood had frozen to ice, and his heart had stopped beating.

It was still Ronove.

It wasn't what Battler wanted.

But, his body had reacted against his will all the same… … because he was pathetic.

"Battler, are you alright? You're looking quite- a-aah…? Battler…?"

Battler was sure his face was bright red by now.

Battler got to his feet hastily; knocking the chair over in one clumsy movement as he did so. It was lucky he didn't fall over. "I-it's nothing; it's nothing, seriously…"

"But-"

"J-just… leave me alone, okay? J-just... t-this doesn't mean anything! It's not because of _you_, o-or because you were touching me, so just… j-just… … a-aah…"

Well, that was a less than adequate 'explanation' that served to clarify nothing save Battler's own obvious guilt. No wonder Ronove looked shocked; rather more like a deer in the headlights than he had ever appeared before.

Maybe, if Battler had been feeling less hideously embarrassed, he would have found Ronove's surprise amusing.

But, Battler really had no right to laugh at others.

Not when he knew how pathetic he looked; trembling, with a red face, and an obvious bulge in the front of his pants.

Battler really didn't know what else to do.

He didn't really have any other option.

So he left.


	2. Two

**Eat the dirt  
><strong>Part two

* * *

><p>"Ha… aaah… …"<p>

A series of needy gasps and pants spilled from Battler's open mouth. No matter how he tried to stifle them, they forced their way through his parted lips regardless.

In the end, trying to stop it was useless.

Everything really was useless.

What was the point, anyway?

It wasn't like anybody could hear, anyway. He was all alone- which was beginning to feel like a bit of a theme as of late.

Nobody could share Battler's embarrassment except himself.

Although, maybe the sound of his pathetic gasps reaching his own ears was bad enough. Those noises, inaudible to all but himself, made him cringe; face flushing scarlet.

Now his head probably looked like it was on fire.

_Great_.

How sexy.

And to think that Beato had, once upon a time, imagined he would make a good prince. Maybe it was a good thing he never came back, 'cause he'd only disappoint her. He couldn't even run his fingers down his own cock without sounding, and feeling, like an idiot.

"Ngh…"

Battler's back arched slightly as he caressed himself; unable to suppress his gasps. The fingers of his right hand were gripped round the base of his cock. With helpless, trembling motions, he moved his hand- slowly at first, almost torturously, whilst his mind filled with so many unpleasant thoughts it felt like it would burst.

This was wrong, wasn't it…? Battler had done this before, of course he had; it was perfectly normal- and sure, sometimes it was embarrassing when he reacted like this to sexy blondes on the TV, or girls at school, but, b-but…

B-but this was entirely different...

Battler had been reduced to this desperate, needy state by _Ronove_; and Beato's butler hadn't even been _fucking _trying to arouse him. Battler wasn't even attracted to Ronove; he wasn't, he was sure of it. Battler's ideal partner was definitely a pretty blonde with big boobs and a perverted, playful personality- n-not somebody like Ronove, who was a _man_.

H-how could he be getting so flustered about a _man_?

It wasn't because it was Ronove, Battler reasoned; that wasn't it at all. He was merely unused to be touched like that, so gently, in such a warm- almost _tender- _manner; and that affection in Ronove's innocent touch had made Battler react so violently.

Ihihi… hihi… H-he might have acted tough after Beato put that collar round his neck and stripped him naked ('stuff like thaaat, it's totally vanilla, ihihi~), but that was all a lie, wasn't it?

Regardless of what Battler said about being a pervert, he was far more sappy and romantic than others thought.

He certainly wasn't like his old man.

Maybe it was Rudolf's influence which had made Battler so invested in ideas of fidelity, and romance, and 'true love'. Even now, at the age of eighteen, Battler couldn't forgive Rudolf for what he had done to his mother. Battler could try to forget, and move on with his life… but he couldn't forgive.

He refused to forgive.

It… was too terrible. How could Rudolf have been sleeping around behind his own wife's back- especially when her health started to wear away, and she became incredibly ill?

Battler could still remember visiting his mother in the hospital- and it was a memory that often caught him unawares; sometimes whilst he was doing mundane tasks like reading Ange bedtime stories, or sitting at school eating his lunch.

Battler had been… what, twelve, at the time? He must have been. And his mother had been lying there on the hospital bed, the strong scent of disinfectant in the air so thick it was difficult to breathe. Everything had been so white, so sterile- and Asumu had looked almost _dead_. Her usually vibrant smile had vanished. Her skin was waxy. Even her red hair seemed to have lost its color.

All her life was being drained out of her.

And, even so, despite his sick wife, _dying_… Rudolf had been sleeping with other women. That was how he got Kyrie pregnant, wasn't it?

Sometimes, Battler wondered whether Asumu had known of her husband's infidelity… and whether that contributed to her shockingly early death.

Battler would never treat a woman the same way Rudolf had treated his mother. He swore he never would.

So, deep down inside… Battler really was soft-hearted; and maybe he believed in true love just as much as Beato did.

_Had._

Before he betrayed her.

The only thing Battler really wanted from any relationship was to be with somebody he loved- and somebody who treated him kindly in return.

That was all.

Ronove was the one person in Purgatorio Battler trusted the most, and who was frequently the kindest to him. It wasn't because Battler was attracted to Ronove that he was… l-like _this_… it was because he was lonely, and miserable, and stressed- and, in the end, he was a teenage boy surrounded by a harem of scantily-clad cute girls, and it was simply too much for him.

The one person Battler was truly in love with was _dead_.

He had killed her.

This was…

T-this didn't mean _anything_.

It was just a loveless masturbation session brought about by loneliness and desperation.

"_F-fuck_… …"

When Battler finally stroked himself into a climax, he body went limp. His head falling back against the bed; toes curling against the sheets underneath; back arching like a cat's.

Ahaha…

Now the shirts were dirty; covered in a sticky white substance, just like Battler's fingers. Ronove had only washed those sheets yesterday as well, so Battler doubted he'd be happy doing it _again_. Battler really hadn't thought this through.

What a pain.

Bitter, self-deprecating thoughts like that filled Battler's head; making any possible joy he might have received from orgasm obsolete. He could hardly even remember feeling anything.

He hadn't felt anything at all whilst he slowly worked himself up to his orgasm. It had been a mechanical act, done only to get rid of his erection- nothing more; just a natural process, like eating food or breathing air.

None of it felt right.

It was just… very cold… and very loveless; and it left him with sticky hands, sticky bed sheets, and a rather empty feeling of worthlessness.

Purgatorio hadn't been that bad when Beato had been there; teasing him, making fun of him, challenging him at every turn so he'd barely even had a _chance _to wallow in his own misery. Although the brutality of Beato's game boards had been upsetting, Battler had to admit… playing witches and detectives with her had been fun.

He'd never once felt lonely.

That feeling had never once crossed his mind.

Neither had all this horrible, stomach-twisting self-hatred- because, back then, Battler hadn't known he had anything to hate himself _for_. He hadn't known… and Beato had oh-so-kindly painted over his 'sin' with the image of a grand witch with blonde hair and a twisted personality.

If only Battler had _believed _the witch, then he could have convinced himself he was some kind of hero saving the day- and he would never have to feel this empty.

But, then again… if he hadn't discovered the truth, he wouldn't have been able to peel that witch mask away to find the sweet girl inside.

But it was too late now.

He was always… too late… …

Without Beato, Battler didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to create a new game board. He didn't know how to save Beato. He didn't know to defeat Bernkastel or Erika.

He didn't even know why he was fighting anymore.

All that was left behind was a vague feeling of depression, a sickness at the pit of his stomach, and tears building up in the corner of his eyes that couldn't be blinked away.

What was the point?

What was the point in doing _anything_?

Battler sniffed, feeling more emotionally drained than he had done in a long time- and curled over on his side, tucking his legs under his chin in a fetal position. He felt like such a little kid; and it was disgusting, really- the bed sheets still damp, and his hands, and his stomach… …

But Battler didn't really care.

He was beyond caring.

* * *

><p>"Battler…? Are you awake yet?"<p>

The sound of a soft knock against the bedroom door, accompanied by that worried voice, gently roused Battler out of his dreamless sleep.

It could only have been Ronove.

Battler was glad Beato's butler was being so considerate as he tried to rouse him, because Battler wasn't really feeling very well.

He felt sick.

Queasy.

His head might not have been able to handle a louder tone of voice than that.

Just as before, this sickness wasn't a physical affliction- so there was no cure for it. It was a dull, aching pain that was eating away at the inside of his chest; rooted deep inside his heart.

His body felt icy and numb; almost as though he were a corpse that had been buried underground for years upon years.

Those feelings of guilt, that were never far from his mind, were slowly being twisted into something so painful Battler had to gasp aloud; pressing his fingertips against his chest, as though trying to soothe the pained beatings of his own heart.

It didn't work.

Still, her voice drifted through his mind; fluttering, as if carried on the golden wings of her butterflies;

"_Thank you, liar… … and goodbye…_"

Battler still felt so heavy; so much so the mere act of moving took too much effort. Even blinking was a chore.

Thinking was even worse.

It shouldn't… have hurt this much to _think_…

Still, Ronove was speaking to him quietly on the other side of the door; apparently unsatisfied with the idea of leaving, and letting Battler wallow in his misery. Oh no- Ronove had to try and act 'concerned', and ask about his feelings.

Ronove had… to worry about him.

_Bastard._

Again, Battler's stomach clenched with guilt as he saw the dried semen stuck to his fingers and the bed sheets.

Urgh…

Now he really felt like he was going to be sick.

This was all Ronove's fault.

If he wasn't so _nice _and _caring _and _understanding _all the time, then Battler wouldn't have reacted like _that _to a simple soft touch... and then Battler wouldn't have had to bring himself to a climax with his own hand, hating himself the whole time.

But, Battler hadn't been thinking of Ronove at the time- or, at least, he'd tried not to… So, did that negate the fact Ronove had managed to give him an unwanted erection to begin with?

Battler had only been thinking of Beato.

_Oh yeah, that's great, _thought Battler, wincing. _You weren't thinking of a man when you jerked yourself off, you were thinking of a dead girl. And that makes it better, doesn't it?_

_What the hell has happened to me?_

By this point Ronove had stopped knocking on the door- but Battler knew he was still outside.

Well, Battler supposed he could at least be thankful for small mercies. Typically, the inhabitants of Purgatorio cared little for doors, and would just materialize in the middle of rooms whether their company was wanted or not. It was incredibly rude, but- as Ronove had explained to Battler, with a small apology- it was an action taken for granted here, so it was difficult to refrain from doing so.

That beggared the question why the hell people built mansions with doors in Purgatorio at all- but Ronove had laughed at Battler's question, and said even demons wanted to pretend they had some privacy at times.

Battler was glad Ronove had managed to remember the etiquette of humans, and had not simply appeared in his room. That would have been incredibly embarrassing- especially given Battler's half-dressed state, and the mess stuck to the bed sheets were in…

Then again, who knew? Maybe common knowledge that the inhabitant of a room had just been masturbating was reason enough for even demons to be civilized and leave them alone.

Battler would have to ask. Then he could jerk off in private, without the fear one of the ass nee-chans would barge in, and then tease him mercilessly about the length of his cock.

…Then again, maybe he _wouldn't_.

Battler always acted like a pervert, but mostly he used it as a method to break the ice with cute girls. Having a serious conversation about masturbating with _Ronove _was definitely not at the top of Battler's to-do list.

The mere thought of it made him feel sick.

Sicker than he already felt.

"Battler?" said Ronove quietly; questioningly. "If you don't want to see my face at the moment, I understand perfectly… but I felt I should at least talk to you; even if it is from the other side of a door. I wouldn't want our… friendship?... if it's not too straightforward to call it that, to become strained over an incident like this."

Ihihi… '_Incident_.'

That made it sound so serious- like somebody had _died_ or something. In reality, Battler was just a hormonal kid who couldn't control himself. That was all.

But… was Battler just imagining it- or… did Ronove sound a lot more earnest than usual? He certainly wasn't speaking like his usual self; and, though Battler couldn't see his face, he was positive the demon butler wasn't smiling in his usual impenetrable manner.

Maybe he really was worried their 'friendship' (even if it was a tad too straightforward to call it that) would be ruined by this.

When Battler thought of it that way, against his better judgement… he found the concern in Ronove's voice almost endearing.

Being cared for, and having somebody worry about him, made him feel strangely… well, _strange._

And ever so slightly happy.

It was the same kind of feeling Battler used to get when drinking hot coca with Ange under the kotatsu at winter. It was a pleasant, warm emotion… and one he hadn't experienced for a while.

It made a nice change from all that guilt and remorse, at least.

…Yeah. If Battler's previous emotions had been the bitter dregs of cold black tea, then this new feeling was definitely hot coca in comparison.

Haha. Didn't they say the way to a guy's heart was through his stomach? Did that make describing emotions in terms of food the kind of thing guys did?

Then again, Beato had used food metaphors a lot as well, so maybe Battler had just picked it up from her…

But Battler… was trying hard not to think about Beato.

When Battler with Ronove, he felt a lot more like his usual self; able to laugh, and smile, and- just for a few moments- _forget_ what he had done. He was able to be happy. Even if it was only for a few moments.

Battler wanted to scrub all his guilt and grief away- and selfishly drown himself in pleasure.

H-huh…

Pleasure?

W-was that really… okay…?

Battler felt miserable… so there was nothing wrong with doing something to lighten his mood, was there?

There… was nothing wrong about the idea he'd just had, was there?

I-it… wasn't ideal, truthfully; and the thought of it made Battler's heart constrict a little, his stomach twisting in disgust… … b-but, it wouldn't be that bad, would it?

It wasn't like Battler would be thinking of Ronove anyway.

But… could he really… make a proposition like that?

Battler didn't know.

He wouldn't know until he'd had a proper discussion with Ronove, either.

Battler cleaned the mess of dried semen from his hands, stomach and the bed sheets in a handful of Beato's golden butterflies. Battler didn't know if he was meant to use magic for such a triviality, or if it was degrading Beato's memory somewhat… but, he tried to push that thought aside.

Think of something else.

Ihihi…

It would've been pretty useful if Battler could use a spell like that back at home. That would've saved him being teased about 'the joys of youth' by that sniggering, arrogant old bastard when Battler had to wash his sheets because of wet dreams.

Shakily, Battler climbed out of bed. He felt unsteady- but at least he didn't fall over, face-first. That was something.

He pulled on the pair of pants he'd thrown aside the night before; picking their crumpled heap off the floor, from where they'd carelessly fallen owing to Battler's urge to wrap his hands round his cock as quickly as possible. Maybe his clothes were a little rumpled, and his hair even more messy than usual; and maybe there were bags under his eyes, and his skin was too pale… but, overall, Battler looked presentable.

Vaguely.

For a zombie, maybe.

"Whatever, you don't have to sound so worried. I'm not angry or anything. Maybe… a little embarrassed, ihihi… b-but, I think that's normal… It's not like I can't stand to see your stupid smiling face or anything," said Battler, affecting bravado, as he opened his bedroom door. "So why don't we- a-aah…? G-gyah!"

_Thump!_

Battler gasped, as he felt the air being forced painfully out of his lungs. Something heavy had fallen onto him. Something that knocked him down against the floor; head cracking painfully against the floor.

White spots began to dance drunkenly in Battler's peripheral vision. Everything was going fuzzy; and the taste of copper filled his mouth.

Just great.

He'd bitten the inside of his cheek, and now it was bleeding.

What a wonderful way to start the morning.

"D-damn it…" Battler moaned; rubbing his head with one hand.

But he wasn't the only one gasping.

Ronove, too, sounded like he was in pain… given he had fallen over backwards the moment Battler opened the door- and was now sprawled on top of Battler, in a rather compromising scene.

Admittedly, it wasn't one of Ronove's finer moments.

_Bleh._

If Battler hadn't been in quite a lot of pain, he might have remembered to be embarrassed.

"Y-you should have told me you were leaning against the door like that!" the red head snapped; still rubbing his head. It felt like he was getting a bruise…

Ah, and now he'd messed up his hair.

Not that it hadn't been messy before, but still.

Sounding a little dazed, Ronove said, "I would have told you, I assure you- but I didn't know you were going to open it."

"W-whatever… J-just get off me!"

"That is my intention, yes… I wasn't planning on sitting on you for the duration of this conversation. Even amongst us demons, that's not considered the norm."

"Well, _good_. It might make things _kind of awkward_."

"Those were my sentiments as well, pu ku ku…"

Ronove's speech sounded unaffected; composed as usual, with just a slight amount of humor. However, his face… betrayed a different emotion altogether.

Battler wasn't sure if he was seeing things or not, but… was Ronove actually flushed?

A very faint blush spread across his face- and his blue eyes curiously half-lidded.

Ronove got to feet in a less than elegant motion- no doubt shaken by his fall from earlier. The shifting on top of him when Ronove moved was enough to make Battler, in his rather sensitive state, gasp- though he was able to bite back the sound just in time.

He really had been too tense lately, and this was one of the few ways he could make himself feel better.

H-he really _was_ pitiful, deriving a sick kind of pleasure from something like _this_- just because he was close to another person.

"Whatever… I'm fine," said Battler; batting away Ronove's proffered hand, and getting up on his feet by himself. "I mean, I'm gonna assume you didn't do that on purpose, given how reeed your face is, ihihi~"

"Ah… Is it?"

"Incredibly." Battler grinned, and prodded Ronove on the cheek. "I think that kind of expression suits you, though. It's not one you make very often."

"Mm, well, as furniture I must always try to act with a certain amount of decorum. Sometimes, however, retaining a neutral smile can be a challenge, even for me," said Ronove.

And with that, he pushed Battler's intrusive finger away- just as Battler had refused his hand earlier.

"Heh. And why's it so difficult for you to maintain your cool now, of all times?"

"Oh, no reason…" said Ronove lightly; a teasing smile now quirking the corners of his lips. "I assure you, it has nothing to do with having my body pressed against yours so suddenly…"

Battler's face flushed slightly, and he frowned. "Aha… ha… I already told you not to joke about that."

"Do forgive me, I can't help it~ If you're correct, and I was blushing earlier… I thought you should, as well. You do it better than me."

"Um. I don't know. I think that kind of surprised expression is kind of cute on you, too."

"Cute… …?"

Battler sniggered at Ronove's obvious confusion; a mean smile on his face. Now he knew how to counter Ronove's flirtatious comments, dealing with him was surprisingly easy; and most of their light-hearted arguments were even fun.

At least, as long as Battler didn't place too much meaning in any of Ronove's comments.

With a small sigh, Battler took a seat on the side of his bed. There was no point having a conversation standing up… and Battler got the feeling this talk was going to get quite serious a few moments.

Especially when Ronove was now starting to look more serious.

… …Especially given the thoughts that were running through Battler's mind.

But… could he really ask something like that… …? It just seemed so wrong…

"Battler…"

"Ronove…" Battler echoed; adapting the same tone of voice Ronove had just used.

Ronove smiled a little at this- but, regardless, he still seemed more edgy than usual. His gloved fingers were even curled round his cravat in an almost… nervous… gesture.

Hesitantly, Beato's butler began to speak.

"I… realize what happened yesterday was only an accident. It had nothing to do with my presence; I'm not foolish enough to believe you feel any form of physical attraction towards me. It's perfectly normal for the human body to react like that under certain circumstances, so…" A small smile. "Shall we not speak of this again? I believe that would be the best thing to do in this situation; and I don't wish for our friendship to be ruined because of this… I just thought I should inform you that I don't mind, and… it doesn't bother me."

"It doesn't bother you…?"

"Not in the slightest. It would probably be quite hypocritical of me to judge you for your actions, given I am a demon, pu ku ku~"

Battler tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowed; disbelieving.

"… …I'm not sure I believe you."

"Hn? And what makes you say that?"

"Because you're acting _strange_."

"Strange…?"

"Yeah. All that blushing, and the stuttering- and, even now, you're not acting like your usual self at all," said Battler thoughtfully; fingers under his chin. "It's weird. Really weird."

"Aha, please don't try to search for a deeper meaning in this… I admit, I was rather… surprised yesterday, but, as I said, I'm not foolish enough to attribute your reaction to me, as a person… I realize you're not attracted to my 'handsome' looks; you've said so yourself countless times. It's a shame, but I'll survive, pu ku ku~"

"So, you're _really _not bothered? Truthfully?"

"Truthfully? I'm fine. So, please don't worry. I realize I tease you a lot, but not even I would be callous even to poke fun at you over an issue like this you can't control?"

"Well then, you're a lot nicer about it than that old bastard. He was _always _making comments- sometimes I just wanted to punch him in the face," said Battler, with a small grin.

"Aha~ There, you see? That is exactly why I have to be considerate about this. I wouldn't want to be punched in the face."

"I might do that anyway, though, just to see your reaction," said Battler, grinning. "It'd be funny."

"Ah, now that really _would_ be cruel… Without my good looks, how could I hope to ever make you fall in love with me? Pu ku ku…"

Battler looked at Ronove for a few moments in askance; before, finally, he decided not to give it too much thought- and he started to laugh.

It was a real laugh; not forced or fake at all.

Battler… truly did feel happier in Ronove's company. It was far preferable to being alone.

It was strange, how spending time with that demon butler always cheered him up.

_Shit._

Was he really… going to ask this?

Was he really going to take the chance of screwing this relationship up so badly? Battler had already ruined things with Beatrice; was he going to ruin this as well?

B-but, Battler was still a teenage boy... and he still had certain urges, and desires, that he couldn't keep at bay- and, if last night was anything to go by… doing that by himself, all alone, cock held in his hands and gruesome thoughts trapped inside his head, felt so sordid and pointless and just plain _wrong _it made him feel guilty.

It only emphasized how alone he was.

And… Battler didn't want to be alone.

Was that such a bad thing?

It wasn't, was it? And, if this meant nothing to either of them… then it wouldn't damage their relationship, would it?

Battler swallowed. He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Looked down at his lap, and picked idly at the cotton of the bed sheets; unsure of what to do, or what to say, or if he should say anything at all-

But the memory of the previous day, and how… _warm, _and _wanted_, and _needed _that touch had made him feel- even if only for a few brief moments- still resounded inside him.

He… had to ask.

He'd already made up his mind- so he had to.

"Hey, Ronove," Battler said; still pick pick picking at the cotton in stress; fingers trembling. "Um… I have a question for you. It might sound kind of weird, but, um-"

Battler froze as he felt fingers link through his; forcing him to leave the bit of cotton he was fretting at alone.

Ronove's gloved fingers were entwined with his own... as though this was perfectly normal and natural, and there was nothing strange about it at all.

They were holding hands.

Battler looked up at Ronove, eyes narrowed. Voice deadpan, he said simply, "Care to explain?"

Ronove was only too happy to comply.

"I was worried you were going to tear the duvet to shreds if I left you to your own devices. Hm…" A small smile. "You really are becoming quite carless as of late, aren't you? Is it the stress? There isn't anything else, is there… I did ask you yesterday, but… that conversation was derailed slightly…"

"I know, I know. You don't need to tell me. _I _was embarrassed too, you know!"

"I gathered, judging by the shade of red your face went."

"S-shut up. If I _am_ stressed, it's because you keep picking on me- l-like we're _children _or something."

"Well, I'm merely trying to take Milady's place~ I know how much you enjoyed bickering with her."

H-huh? Take… Beato's place… …?

Battler blinked at Ronove.

W-was that just another sign that… he didn't matter… … and this would all be alright?

"Battler? You're spacing out again~"

As usual, Ronove's voice dragged Battler out of his thoughts… Though, his voice was too gentle to 'drag'. Rather, it… carried Battler from his thoughts? Yeah. Something like that.

"Aha, um… Y-yeah, I know. It's just stress, like I said."

"Are you quite sure? You would tell me if there was something else… wouldn't you?"

"Yes? No? Maybe...?" Battler sighed; running his free hand through his hair. "I don't know. I'm thinking about it right now. You know that question I wanted to ask you?"

"Mmhm?"

"Well… it's related… to how I feel. Ah, it's… kind of difficult to explain… …"

"Well, I'll be here to listen. And I'll try to comfort you- although I can't promise how successful I'll be at that," said Ronove lightly, with a small smile.

"Thanks. So… if you really want to help, um… well… About my question… Um… Ronove…"

Battler looked at Ronove hesitantly. He was suddenly, startlingly aware of how close Ronove was… and just how blue his eyes were.

They were a little like Beato's, maybe.

This… wasn't a bad idea, was it?

Battler had the very strong, overwhelming feeling that it _was_. Perhaps this was one of the stupidest ideas he'd ever had; even more ridiculous than the 'small bombs' theory.

But Battler was a stubborn person. When he had an idea, no matter how bizarre, he typically acted on it. Just like the time when he was nine and he'd tried to climb that tall tree, even though George told him not to… and then he'd fallen off the topmost branch and broken his arm.

More was at stake than broken bones here, though. There was Battler's pride… and self-respect… and his ability to look at his reflection in the mirror in the future without shuddering… …

But Battler would ask anyway.

Because he was an idiot.

And, in the end… he really was that desperate.

So, shifting slightly in embarrassment, Battler asked, "If I asked you to do something rather, um… personal for me… would you mind?"

He'd never been like this with any of the other girls he'd had sex with- but, then again, Ronove wasn't a girl… and, in those cases, those girls had been perfectly willing to do what Battler wanted. Battler had no idea what Ronove wanted; and really, at the end of it, it would've been better if Ronove _didn't _have any strong feelings for him, because that would only make everything far more confusing.

After all, Battler wasn't asking this out of love.

He was asking out of loneliness.

"Ah… I suppose that depends on what you want me to do," was Ronove's slow, rather careful response. "But, being your furniture, if you ordered me to do anything… I would be bound to obey. So, I would probably… have no real choice in the matter."

"O-oh… Good. So, um… just to clarify. I don't… have any strong feelings for you."

"I'm aware of that; you don't have to state it so cruelly."

"Yeah, and… you don't have any strong feelings for me… right?"

There was a small silence.

It took Ronove quite some time before he finally replied- yet his voice was calm when he did so.

"That is correct. Being a demon, my heart is quite closed off to emotions such a love."

"That's good, then. So… if there isn't any love, this won't get complicated, alright? What I'm going to ask… isn't because I love you, or anything like that. It's because I'm… … a horny teenager… and you're one of the few people here I feel comfortable with. That's all. So, don't misinterpret it. This isn't a confession of 'love'. This is more like a business meeting..."

Ronove's eyes widened at Battler's words. His lips fell open in a small 'o' of surprise; and, like before… a rather faint blush ghosted across his face.

"Battler? What are you suggesting I do, exactly… …?"

"Isn't that obvious? I thought you'd be able to figure it out by now, without me spelling it out."

"Well, certainly, I-I'm sure I know what you're referring to, but… I can't believe that you would-"

"Yeah, I know. It's pretty unbelievable. But, so are witches and demons. And… … I really _am _this desperate… and lonely."

Battler looked Ronove in the eye; trying to appear bold, whilst on the inside every particle of his being was screaming at him to leave this hideous conversation he'd started himself and run away.

"I'm not asking you to fall in love with me or anything; really, my life is complicated enough without shit like that. I… I…

"I just want you to fuck me.

"… …That's all."

A long gulf of silence stretched between the pair of them.

Throughout it, Battler looked at Ronove challengingly; eyes narrowed, frowning. But Ronove, for one of the first times in his life… … was unable to keep his gaze steady. His face had turned pale at Battler's command- and yet, simultaneously, a light blush had risen to his cheeks, so he looked almost feverish.

He was trembling slightly.

His fingers… really were shaking…

So was his voice.

"Battler… A-as your furniture, I am bound to obey orders, no matter what they are… and I'm aware some witches and sorcerers do use their furniture for… things like this… typically not revered demons such as myself, but… it's not that uncommon. And yet… Are you sure that is what you want? Because, this doesn't seem like the kind of thing you would do… …"

But Battler's mind was made up. He couldn't spend another night alone, fingers sliding up his own cock whilst he felt no happiness at all; he just felt _empty_.

Battler didn't want to do that anymore.

Battler slid his fingers out from between Ronove's, and moved to grip his wrist. Then, very slowly- hardly daring to believe he was actually doing this (maybe if he didn't think about it, it wasn't happening?)- Battler guided Ronove's hand; and pressed it firmly against his groin.

Ronove didn't even try to resist. Maybe he felt he couldn't.

Battler's eyelashes fluttered shut at the pressure against his cock; allowing a small, needy gasp to escape from his lips.

"I-I… want you to do this, okay? I-I'm really being serious here… …"

Ronove's eyes were still a little too wide; his face flushed; fingers trembling, as he ran his fingertips experimentally down the front of Battler's pants.

The breathy moan he received in reply was encouragement to carry on; squeezing slightly, and applying just a little more pressure.

Ronove hung his head, and tried to calm his own breathing, as Battler shivered under his slight touches. He'd barely done anything yet, or directly touched Battler's penis with his fingers, but already Battler was getting this hard, and this desperate…

And yet, despite that… Ronove didn't want to do this.

He didn't at all.

Each breathy moan from Battler made him flinch slightly; and he could hardly stand to touch Battler without feeling horribly unclean- as though he was violating him… …

But… he couldn't say anything.

He had no right to say anything.

So, Ronove bit on the inside of his own cheek- and, for once in his life, forced himself to remain silent and compliant.

If this was an order from Lord Battler… … then he had to obey.


	3. Three

**Eat the dirt  
><strong>Part three

* * *

><p>"No… <em>don't<em>. D-don't do that."

"B-battler…?"

Ronove drew away from Battler slowly; lips parted slightly, that faint blush still spread across his cheeks. Ronove's hair, usually so neat and ordered, was a mess; black strands no longer tucked behind his ears, but framing his face in a disorderly chaos that was surely inappropriate for a demon of his status.

It wasn't just his hair, though.

Everything about Ronove at that moment was probably inappropriate for somebody of his status.

His coat had been discarded some time before. It was too thick and far too warm; almost oppressive.

His breathing was heavy; slight shudders wracked his body; his bare fingers were divested of their usual gloves, and shoved down the front of Battler's pants- and still caressing the other's painfully hard cock.

A great demon such as Ronove should never make a spectacle of themselves in such a disgusting manner. He was a noble of hell- but it was impossible to feel particularly 'noble' or refined with his hand round Battler's dick.

Nobody would have ever dreamed to use a respected noble like Ronove for something sordid like this.

But Battler had.

Battler had ordered him.

And Ronove, despite his pride, couldn't disobey. He had to listen to Battler, regardless that _this_ went completely against his character. His own personality didn't matter all that much when the territory lord was issuing him orders.

Whether he wanted to or not, he had to fulfil them… because he was only furniture… …

This was what Battler, Ronove's current master, wanted him for- so he had to comply.

This wasn't the first time Ronove had done this for Battler, either. It must have been the third or fourth- though Ronove wasn't quite sure. Even though he was reliable, and had a good memory, he had been trying very hard to avoid thinking about… _this_, so he had forgotten the exact number.

Perhaps that was for the best.

It was easier forgetting about painful, embarrassing experiences than remembering them and being miserable.

It didn't really matter how hard Ronove tried to forget, though. The exact same thing would only happen the following night- with very little deviation.

Ronove, still unsteady and unsure_, _would run his fingers down the front of Battler's pants; teasing his cock into an erect state, which never took very long- and then there would be more direct touches, as Ronove slipped a hand down Battler's pants and brought him to his climax in a shower of breathy moans and gasps.

The noises were all courtesy of Battler, of course.

Ronove never made a sound. He couldn't- because Battler had told him not to. So, the demon butler tried to exercise all his self control and remain silent- but… i-it wasn't that easy. Not when Battler's body was shuddering at his touch, pliant and needy; head falling limply against Ronove's shoulder weakly; face bright red; reaching his orgasm with Ronove's _hand _round his _cock_ and releasing semen over his fingers.

Even the most composed person couldn't have remained silent and unaffected by a sight like _that_. It was almost impossible.

But Battler didn't want Ronove to make a sound.

He didn't want Ronove to do anything other than touch him, over and over; and who cared if Ronove wanted anything more, because this was meaningless anyway.

Furniture shouldn't make sounds.

Furniture served their masters, but had no needs of their own- because Battler hadn't permitted Ronove to feel anything more. He had said it quite clearly himself. Feelings would only make things complicated.

So there were no feelings.

At least, there shouldn't have been.

This was only a 'business transaction', after all; a mutual agreement, because Battler really _was_ desperate enough to need some intimacy like this and Ronove simply couldn't say no.

It wasn't as if these sordid interactions involved any trace of love. 'Love' was just a delusion, after all- as Ronove was only too well aware.

There was nothing loving about this.

It was cold and impersonal- and when Ronove felt he might have felt the faintest flickering of pleasure from seeing Battler so weak and vulnerable and red-faced and helpless he had to bite the inside of his mouth to stop himself making a sound.

Battler always had his eyes closed, so he couldn't see Ronove's face.

He wouldn't let Ronove talk, so he couldn't hear his voice.

In the end, it didn't matter that Ronove was doing this for Battler at all. It could have been anyone.

The one person Battler wanted to be with was dead.

Ronove was just a substitute.

Battler wasn't deriving any pleasure from this because he with Ronove.

Battler was only able to orgasm because he was forcing himself to believe the person sliding their fingers up his shaft and drawing those noises from his mouth was her.

Beatrice.

That was why, during this session, Battler had told Ronove to _stop_; his voice firm, impossible to argue with.

Ronove must have crossed some kind of line when he, in a small attempt to make this seem slightly less heartless and impersonal… reached forwards- and drew Battler into a soft kiss.

It didn't last very long. Battler soon pushed Ronove away with both his hands; and they were resting, now, curled at the front of Ronove's shirt- forcing him to keep his distance.

"D-don't do that," Battler repeated. He was stammering slightly; still light-headed from the sensation of friction and fingers sliding over his cock- but he was able to keep his voice surprisingly authoritative, given his flustered state. "I'm not… into _that_."

"But…" Ronove lowered his gaze; fingers still ghosting down Battler's erect penis, but the whole act felt so unnatural and unattached from Ronove himself he wasn't giving it much attention. "This might sound too forward, so please forgive me, but… perhaps I do…?"

"D-don't talk about this _now_," Battler hissed. His voice was breathless and airy- but the venom still carried across perfectly well. "I-I don't want to… to… …"

"You don't want to be reminded I'm me…?"

"S-shut up; j-just shut up, I-I… I… a-aah…"

Battler's voice trailed away into a helpless gasp as Ronove applied more pressure than usual; now holding him tightly; moving more quickly, more aggressively. All of Battler's thoughts ran together and collided, just like a train wreck- h-he could hardly think anymore, he barely even remembered his own name; but if he kept his eyelids shut tightly, he could still fool himself into imagining this was Beato and he wasn't alone; he hadn't killed her, he hadn't…

I-it wasn't his fault… …

"_Yes, you keep telling yourself that, Baaattler, gyaha~ You tell yourself it wasn't your fault- but it was, you know?"_

"_B-bea… aa…"_

"_Ah, but it's okay~ Seeing you this hopeless, writhing under my hand, is all the payment I need, seeee? Gyahaha~ Aaah, you like to pretend you're such a strong, tough maaan, but really you're just pathetic; it's so pathetic, I can force you make such interesting noises all by changing the pressure of my haaand, ufufufu~ You better thank me for this later, okay? You better get down on bended knee, kiss the tips of my shoes, and glorify my name~"_

"_H-haha… ihihi… Y-you bitch… Your name is way too long to glorify anyways, I-I'm really not interested… aa… w-what a paaain… …"_

"_Hn? Fine, then? You don't wanna? You really dooon't? Theeeen… I'll stop~ Uufufu~"_

"_H-hey, don't-"_

"_Hn? Don't what? What do you want?"_

"_Don't… don't… D-d-don't start doing _that _if you're not even gonna finish! T-that's… aah… t-that's _low_, even for you…"_

"_Oh? Fufufufu~ So, despite your tough talk, you still want me that much?"_

"_I…"_

"_Say it~ Go on, Battler, saaaaay it, or I won't do anything~ I'm a fickle person you know; maybe I got bored playing with you!~ But if you glorify my name, then I'll play with you aaaaall you want! I'll make you furniture and love you and cuddle you and cherish you until you turn into ashes, and then I'll resurrect you again and again and again and do the same thing, over and over~ Gyahahahaha! How fun, that sounds like too much fun! But I'm not gonna play around with a stupid virgin like you if you don't say 'thank you, Witch-sama'. Can you say it?"_

"_L-like… l-like hell I-I would ever say something so embarrassing, ihihi… A-a guy has to have some pride, you know…"_

"_Sure, sure, 'pride'. How nice. How funny~ I didn't see much of that 'pride' when you were all red-faced and your dick was hard in my hand, keke~ Funny how that works, huh? Humans are so interesting…~"_

"_B-beato… B-beato, you bitch, g-get back here…!"_

"_So you'll say it?"_

"_I… I… …"_

"_Hey, come on, Battler… Come on… … You did break your promise, right? You… should be thankful that I'm still so nice. You should be happy. So, you should at least say it… so I know you're being serious."_

"_H-ha… hahaha… t-trying to guilt-trip me now? W-what happened? So now you're a cute, wide-eyed innocent girl?"_

"_Well, they're both parts of my character~ I'm not sure, what type of girl do you like the most? Do you like a mean witch who'll chain you up and poison your cookies, or a cute girl who blushes and stutters when you pat her on the head? Maybe I could be both, maybe… … But I'll be neither unless you say it. Go on. Glorify my name. Go on, go on, go oooooon!"_

"_S-so impatient…"_

"_And you. You're still hard, riiight? Kukuku~ So needy."_

"_N-ngh… gaah… a-ah, okay… f-fine… F-fine… …"_

"_What? What's fine? Say it, say iiiit!~~~"_

"_Ah, um… T-thank you, witch-sama… P-please, don't stop… … ahehehhh…~ How was thaaat? Ihihi…"_

"… … _pffttt, ahahahaa~ Aww, my stupid husband looks so cute when he begs for a little attention from his beautiful wife~"_

"_S-stop laughing at me, t-this is kind of killing the mood! J-just- a-aa… aaa… B-beato… …?"_

"_Well… muu… you _did _say it. And, unlike you… … I keep my promises."_

"_B-bea… aaa… …"_

"Beato… …"

And, gasping the name of a dead woman, Battler was brought his shuddering climax. He no longer had the strength to keep himself sitting upright; and, trembling, his head fell against Ronove's shoulder with a light bump.

But… unlike the previous times before, Ronove did not hold Battler in his arms silently until he'd stopped shaking.

He didn't indulge in this mockery of 'romance' that didn't exist.

Instead… fingers sticky, face flushed, and eyes burning slightly… Ronove did the exact opposite.

He pushed Battler away- and held his exhausted form firmly, by the shoulders.

"H-huh… w-what…?"

Battler blinked at Ronove tiredly; eyes half-lidded from exhaustion, and filled with confusion. Obviously, he was surprised at this sudden change in their schedule- and Ronove, too, was a little shocked at his own behaviour-

But he could no longer obey Battler's orders.

He couldn't remain silent anymore.

It wasn't in Ronove's nature to be follow his Master's commands to the letter. Whenever Beato ordered him to act before, he would always do so with a small smile and a teasing comment or two that made the irritable young girl glare or pout or fold her arms.

So… why had he blindly obeyed Battler?

It was true he was 'furniture'- but he was a demon, too; and he was definitely more than the mute, spineless servant Battler had been treating him as. Why had Ronove played that part at all? Why had he allowed himself to be humiliated; acting out Battler's each and every whim, whilst knowing at no time during it Battler was not thinking of him at all?

Maybe it was because… of how he felt…

Stupid feelings made people do stupid things; and 'love' really was the most powerful emotion that could make people do the most bizarre actions, that went against logic and common sense and even basic self-preservation.

Battler had said there was no 'love' in this- and maybe that was true for him, but… …

I-if it had been true for both of them, this wouldn't have been nearly as difficult.

"I… apologize, Lord Battler," Ronove said; gaze slipping almost shyly from Battler's face to the bed shets. "However, I… hm… I-I don't particularly want to do this anymore."

Ronove's shoulders were shaking slightly; his appearance dishevelled; face bright red; as if his usual, composed appearance had been torn off- revealing something weaker, and far more emotional, far more delicate, underneath.

How interesting.

So, it seemed even demons with enigmatic smiles… … had feelings, too.

They were just buried quite deep down under their masks- and it took a lot of damage to unveil them. Sometimes, demons of Ronove's calibre would retain their eerie smirks or insolent personalities even whilst being tortured- because they were so prideful they would never allow themselves to succumb to weaker, more human emotions.

Ronove was no real exception to the rule.

And yet, despite that… Battler had managed to expose this side of Ronove's character in only a matter of days.

If the other demons of Ars Goetia could see to what lows one of their most highly ranked comrades had fallen to, they surely would have laughed- or turned their noses up in scorn and distain. So would the witches who coveted Ronove's attention; who fantasized about the cakes and pastries he served, and saw him as an ideal butler.

This was quite a fall from grace for somebody so revered and respected, Ronove knew it… … and it made his skin crawl.

It was worse, far worse, that Battler had been able to make him do this merely by _asking_.

Ronove hadn't tried to fight against it at all.

But, now…

Now, it was simply too much… …

"W-what do you mean?" asked Battler, with a small frown; voice thick with exhaustion, lashes fluttering. "I thought we had this… arranged…?"

"We did, but… ah… It's not a scenario I… particularly want to be in…" A soft sigh; though it sounded horribly tired… and broken down. "Mm… Call me old-fashioned, but… I always assumed, for relationships like this one to work properly, there had to be _some _degree of love in it… ….? Though, I'm sure not everyone feels the same… Well. I am a gentleman, before I am a demon, and… I dislike situations like this. A lot. Aha… …"

Ronove's laugh was hardly sincere. It was cold and self-deprecating; betraying a sense of misery that was enough to make even Battler flinch.

"W-what do you mean? We already decided there was no 'love'. I said there was no 'love'- that'd just fuck everything up even _more_, and I'm already confused enough as it is," said Battler; unsure, exactly, of what Ronove was trying to say- or how he should respond. "It's not like this is a real 'relationship'. This is just sex. It doesn't mean anything."

Ronove's shoulders stiffened; fingers curling tightly into fists, as his fingernails bit into his flesh.

"I am… aware of that… I'm not foolish enough to delude myself feelings exist between us that don't," said Ronove; and, despite his small smile, his voice was raw and incredibly sincere, in a way that made Battler shudder. "And that… is why I don't want to do this. Because it doesn't mean anything to you. And maybe I… … maybe I, being rather foolish… wish it did. Because… … it means something to me."

It took Battler's brain a few moments to work out what Ronove was really saying- but, when he did, the haze of exhaustion lifted from his mind somewhat… and his eyes opened just a little wider.

R-ronove seriously…

H-he…

Perhaps quite insensitively, the first words that fell from Battler's mouth were, "This isn't a joke, is it?"

"Why would I joke about something like this?" Ronove countered.

His voice was still soft and calm, almost gentle- but it was still painfully sincere. It felt like his words had jagged edges- and each one caught Battler in the stomach; just as his blue truth had impaled Beato at the end of their fourth game.

Beato had tried to laugh bravely then, talking as if she truly didn't care- but Battler had been able to hear the pain through her words regardless.

And, just as Beato had been bluffing… so, too, was Ronove.

He was still smiling his usual smile- but Battler could see, very plainly, just how fake it was.

He'd never seen Ronove look, or sound, so… incredibly fragile before.

If this was a joke, it was an incredibly good one- and it was horribly twisted, too.

"I admit, I do enjoy teasing you from time to time, just to see the expressions on your face… they really can be quite cute…" said Ronove lightly, with a soft laugh. "But… this isn't a joke. It might be surprising- but, I assure you… for once, I am being completely truthful."

Battler had momentarily forgotten how to talk. He opened his mouth, but words failed him constantly; until he started to get a horrible headache.

He didn't even know what he wanted to say.

He didn't know… what could make this situation better.

But he _did_ know that he didn't want Ronove to look, or sound, like _that _anymore.

How could a person like him… have been ground down so easily…?

"S-so you… y-you… really… Y-you really… care about me?"

There was a small silence, as Ronove's expression shifted slightly into something even more pained; but, after a few moments, he nodded his head… and his smile returned.

"Aha~ I can't deny it. I really do care about you.

"I admit… at first, I was merely interested in you because you were Milady's opponent… and I thought it was fun making blush. That's all. But, after a while… hm, I'm not sure when, so please don't ask; I know I have a good memory, but it's been failing me recently… anyway… I… truly began to feel… quite attracted you. The strange hair, penchant for pointing rudely at people and silly theories aside, I… find you quite endearing company; and, really… I find it very difficult to be maudlin around you.

"Aaah, you do… bring out a very childish side of my character- because I rarely tease other people quite as mercilessly as I do to you; but, hm… Maybe, despite my outward appearance, I'm a very childish person… And not really all that intelligent. Because, if I was… I definitely would have guarded my feelings around you more carefully… … and I wouldn't have agreed to do _this_… in the hopes it meant something more."

Battler stared at Ronove in blank shock; mouth falling open slightly, face turning pale.

T-this was…

Was this…

This was a _confession_?

That damn demon butler, with his enigmatic smiles and mischievous comments… … truly felt that way for him?

W-was that why Ronove had been acting so strangely _nice _the past few days; always standing by Battler's side, engaging him in light conversation when he was particularly depressed, and serving him his favorite tea and snacks?

Ronove wanted to comfort him, and make him happy- because that weird demon actually… … cared for him?

Battler hadn't even known demons _could_ fall in love- and he had never thought, even for a second, to dig around a little deeper behind Ronove's comments…

But, now that he thought about it… it seemed horribly, painfully _obvious_.

It was just another thing Battler had failed to see until it was too late.

Well, he had a huge list of mistakes complied by now- so he could always add it to the tab.

The things Ronove had been doing for Battler all of this time, unasked… were the kind of things chick Beato did for him. The chick Beato had always tried to anxiously engage him in conversation, or get his attention, or make him laugh, or make him smile… a-and… she even made him cookies too, didn't she?

But Battler hadn't eaten hers'.

He couldn't… because she looked so much like Beato, but acted too much like Shannon… and it _hurt._

"_If Beato made these, she would have put poison in them or something; definitely- I-I'm… I'm sure she would…"_

_And Ronove had laughed softly as he watched Battler; shaking his head._

_When Battler had lamented over chick Beato's innocent nature, and… and her _cookies_… when he felt like he was going to cry, but was too stubborn to… it had been Ronove who tried to cheer him up- and bring a smile back to his face._

"_Well… That's a very strange ingredient to wish for in your cookies, Battler," Ronove had said lightly, with a smile. "Would you like me to take your rather unique tastes into account and adjust my own cookies accordingly?"_

_And, although Battler had felt so miserable he wanted to cry (wanted to, but couldn't) he… had even smiled, just a little… at that._

"_Yeah, why not?" Battler had said; playing along with Ronove. "Maybe, if you added some cyanide to your cookies, it'd give them an extra kick."_

"_Perhaps it would… but, I fear, I'm rather traditional when it comes to making food- and defiling a cookie recipe in such a frightening manner goes quite against my morals."_

_Battler really had laughed at that._

That was right… Battler had always eaten the food Ronove gave him.

He ate it without giving it too much thought… because Ronove was a demon, and another _man _regardless, and Battler had never thought… it had never even crossed his mind… … that, maybe, Ronove cared about him just as much as that little chick Beato.

Ronove had… felt like _that _about him… and Battler never realized.

Ronove had… been in love?

Really?

Seriously?

But Battler had used Ronove's loyalty for his own gain and physical pleasure- never thinking there was something deeper behind it.

Battler had always been thinking of Beato.

But Ronove… had only ever been thinking of him.

That whole time, Battler had instructed Ronove to remain silent, and never do anything truly loving like kissing. Battler had been trying to imagine it was Beato. He only wanted to think that this was Beato.

Battler had just wanted to turn off his brain and pretend.

But, how would Ronove feel… when he was that intimate with a person he'd developed some bizarre, irrational feelings for… and that person was just _using _them, like a living sex doll?

How much would that have hurt…?

"Ahaha… I can see now I was wrong," said Ronove softly; eyes still carefully averted from Battler's face. Although his voice was still light, it was very bitter… and filled with sarcasm. "I was being foolish, assuming… _this_… meant anything to you. Whilst you were imagining I was somebody else, maybe I, too… was imagining you felt some kind of emotion for me. But… I was quite stupid. After all, you told me it plainly from the beginning. 'This doesn't mean anything'. I suppose I should have listened, really…

"But, love_ is_ an illusion and a misunderstanding… so I shouldn't be too surprised."

Battler winced as Ronove's words cut into him painfully; digging more spikes of guilt into his flesh. He'd known from the start this was a bad idea; he'd known using Ronove like this would cause their relationship to become horribly twisted- but he'd no idea it would become _irreparably _broken.

He hadn't known Ronove… felt that way about him.

Then again, if Ronove had ever told him before, Battler would, almost certainly, have thought he was joking.

Even now, Battler hardly believed it.

"Mm… So, in the end, I was just a substitute for Milady… pu ku ku~" Ronove laughed again; looking down at one of his hands, the fingers wet with Battler's semen. "I'm sorry I wasn't a very good substitute… I'm not nearly feminine enough, am I? Ha… haha… Then again, I suppose being treated like a prostitute was interesting, even if I wasn't very good at it… I should probably stick to serving tea and cakes…"

"Y-you're… you're not a prostitute… That wasn't what this was about, I swear…" Battler argued; that horrible, painful guilt needling him from all angles; making his skin prickle.

He thought about taking one of Ronove's hands, as the demon occasionally did to him to offer comfort- but when Battler remembered those fingers were still sticky, he couldn't help but recoil slightly.

"Hm. Yes, I suppose you're right," Ronove said, with another small, and decidedly helpless, smile. "Prostitutes get paid for their services. I… didn't even deserve that, right? Well… I do have this, I suppose…"

Battler could only stare in mingled shock, embarrassment and guilt, as Ronove- normally so proud, cool, calm and composed- lifted his cum-stained fingers to his lips…

Ronove hesitated for a few moments, blinking down at his fingers as though in surprise at his own actions- but, the moment soon passed.

He smiled; a strangely charming, composed smile, given the rumpled state he was in, and laughed again.

"Well, I suppose I must look so pitiful to you already… that a little more won't hurt, right? Hm~"

And with that bleak, depressing claim, Ronove's lips parted- and slowly, sensuously, he began to lick the fluid from the tips of his fingers.

He winced slightly as he sucked his fingers- obviously disgusted by the taste; but, despite the gag reflex kicking in, Ronove continued to suck his fingers clean- gasping in an unabashed manner about his own fingers in a manner he hadn't been permitted to do whilst he serviced Battler. His eyes were half-lidded, lashes fluttering shut against his pale skin, whilst his cheeks were flushed hotly- a little like he was running a temperature.

When Ronove finally drew the tip of the last digit from his mouth with a wet _pop_, silver spider webs of saliva continued to connect his pink parted lips to his fingers.

Given his disordered appearance, and the gasps that still forced themselves from his lips… it looked as if Ronove had been caught in the aftermath of something obscene.

Battler could only stare as he watched Ronove teasing his fingers with his tongue… his mouth open in shock, thoughts a complete mess.

H-how could somebody like that… degrade themselves so openly before him- as though they didn't even care?

Maybe he didn't.

Maybe he'd ceased caring about Battler's opinion.

After all, as Ronove said… he'd already willingly jerked Battler off, without any form of compensation or reparation- so, maybe… he had no reservations about acting like that anymore.

Perhaps Ronove felt he couldn't be humiliated anymore… so he had stopped worrying about trying to hold onto what fragments of his dignity he had left; if any.

Battler could see it, even as he watched Ronove. His enigmatic smile, the mask he had tried to wear (mostly unsuccessfully) throughout his talk with Battler… had slipped entirely.

He was still smiling, yes- but his lips, stained with saliva and Battler's cum, were twitching slightly… and his eyes were downcast; filled with…

N-no…

It couldn't be…

But, it _was_.

They were… tears.

Real tears.

Battler felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest. He hadn't even known it was possible for Ronove to cry, but… … h-had he actually broken him down _that _much?

Had Battler really been so selfish… that he had forgotten Ronove had feelings?

Battler hadn't wanted to be alone; that was all- and, given his fantasies about Beato… it was either he fucked that little blonde girl who called herself Beatrice but wasn't… or he found somebody else to act as a substitute.

But Battler had never intended to do _this_.

He hadn't wanted their friendship… to be destroyed like this…

Battler couldn't imagine Ronove forgetting about this. It would be… impossible. How could you look a person you loved in the eye, after that person had more or less forced you into meaningless sex you weren't even allowed to enjoy?

Not even a person like Ronove would be able to smile at Battler sincerely after this; Battler was sure of it.

He'd…

H-he'd really fucked this up… …

Battler looked at the doubled over figure of Beato's once proud butler; lips still stained with Battler's own cum, face flushed, eyes welling with salty tears- and, in a moment of pity and compassion, reached out towards him; lifting his chin gently with his fingers. They were now looking each other in the eye.

"Hm~ A-aha, this… is an interesting development…" Ronove muttered. "What do you want me to do now?"

"Nothing, I just… I…"

But words failed Battler. He'd never been very good with words anyway- and he knew no words would be able to convey a proper apology. There were some things that were unforgivable, after all… and Battler had a feeling this was one of them.

Battler didn't know what he was going to do. Kiss Ronove? But, no… although the thought did cross his mind- he couldn't.

He couldn't.

He didn't love Ronove. He never would.

He loved Beato.

And Battler got the feeling a kiss, born out of pity, would only make Ronove feel _worse_.

In the end, Battler let his fingers fall back to his lap, and did exactly what he had stated before.

Nothing.

And, although apologies were probably useless… he still gave one anyway.

"I… I'm sorry… …"

"It's… fine," was Ronove's soft reply. "It's not your fault I couldn't control my own feelings. I'm sure you're right. This would have been easy, if I weren't so stupid… ahaha… ha… …

"In fact, I'm… glad you don't return my feelings… because Milady… really loves you, you know? Perhaps I shouldn't divulge sensitive information like this to you, given these are Milady's personal emotions… but, pu ku ku… she was always rather poor at expressing her own feelings; so I'll attempt to do it for her.

"Milady really did love you. And, if you can return her feelings… then I'm happy. I… I-I'm truly happy for you. Milady suffered so much… so she deserves a happy ending. I'm grateful to you for returning Milady's love. And, if… i-if I can service you in any way, to ensure your happiness as well… I should probably do it.

"If you asked, maybe I even would have eaten the dirt, if you wanted… my status as a demon aside. It's not like I have much of that left, is it… …? So, if you feel stressed again in the future, and you want to have more meaningless sex with somebody… maybe, if it will spare the young Miss Beatrice… … you can just ask me. I-I'll try to pretend I don't feel anything, alright?~ You can close your eyes… and you don't even have to acknowledge my existence. I'm sure, even though you're not attracted to me… I wasn't that bad… was I?"

Battler stared at Ronove. Why was that damn butler, who usually acted so refined… openly disregarding his own feelings as worthless? He was even offering to do this again… … even though, right now, it looked like he was trying not to cry.

_Useless._

T-this whole situation… was completely useless…

"I… I thought you said you didn't want to? T-this is fucked up enough as it is, I-I don't want to keep doing this- n-not now I know how it makes _you _feel."

"Ahaha… T-thank you for caring, but… … I gave it some thought, and I… would rather you kept using me, instead of involving anybody else. I think that might be for the best.

"Well, just think about it, alright? I'll do anything you want; you only have to ask~ I'll… be completely subservient… and I won't make a sound. If you want, I could even use my mouth next time?~"

Ronove's voice was light- and if the previous events hadn't expired, Battler might have assumed that damn demon was teasing him again. But Battler knew better.

He could tell Ronove was being completely serious.

He was only trying to keep his tone light… to prevent himself from having some kind of breakdown.

It was probably too late to 'prevent' that now, though.

It had already happened.

Battler knew it was _wrong_, he knew this whole scenario was incredibly _twisted- _and now the large power imbalance was making him feel horribly uncomfortable; almost as if Ronove was offering, with that small and incredibly unconvincing smile, to let Battler rape him.

W-would something like be rape? Even though Ronove was offering, it was clear he didn't want to.

He was just offering himself for sex... because Battler had managed to wear his self worth away completely.

Battler shouldn't have found it arousing.

He really shouldn't.

But, horribly, repulsively enough… … he _did_.

Ronove watched, eyes narrowed and lips parted, as Battler's cock hardened once more at his words… and then smiled.

It was a smile devoid of anything that could be called 'happiness'.

"Would you like me to take care of that for you, Lord Battler?"

Battler knew he should have protested. He should've pushed Ronove away, when he clearly wasn't in a fit state of mind to do _anything_, l-let alone something like _this_… …

But, when Ronove's fingers slowly, hesitantly, caressed the bulge in Battler's pants once more… Battler could only moan- squeezing his eyes shut, and falling back against the bed, helpless against the strength of his own physical pleasure.

"_Beato…?"_

"_Hm~ How fun, how fun~ I like my humans all nicely wrapped up so I can open them and have fun, ufufufu~"_

_The Golden Witch cackled as she pushed Battler down; trailing her fingers down the front of his shirt teasingly, seductively; coming to rest gently on his crotch._

_Battler, contrary to all his perverted comments about 'cow tits', turned bright red at this light touch- and Beato only laughed even more._

_He barely had the time to say anything; she was already pulling his pants down; then his underwear- not wasting much time, but Battler had already figured, being such an impatient and childish woman, she wasn't the biggest fan of foreplay._

"_Hm? Is this aaall?~" she said teasingly; running one finger down the shaft of Battler's cock. "I'm disappointed, kukuku~"_

_If possible, Battler's face turned redder. "S-shut up… …"_

"_Ahaha~ Aren't you forgetting something?"_

_Despite the anticipation, and the adrenalin thumping through his body, Battler still had enough energy to roll his eyes… but he wasn't strong enough to spar with Beato; not now._

_H-he was too worked up for that…_

_Must've been because he was still a horny teenager, ahaha… ha…_

"_F-f-fine… P-please, Witch-sama…?"_

"_Hmph~ It'll do~"_

_And, with a small laugh, Beato dipped her head (Battler's cheeks turned even redder; his heartbeat thumped even louder)-_

_-and pressed her lips round the tip of his cock._

A warm, wet sensation encased Battler's penis- and, suddenly, all of his thoughts were completely scattered; disjointed. He could hardly even think, he could hardly feel- h-he couldn't feel anything except pleasure- and he gasped helplessly, thrusting upwards inadvertently to feel more of that warmth- wanting to take him in even deeper.

But that wasn't the only sound that flitted through Battler's bedroom.

It was also coupled… … with the noise of quiet sobbing.

* * *

><p><em>Love is an illusion, a misunderstanding.<br>Mutual love is a mutual misunderstanding of being mutually loved._

* * *

><p><strong>The End<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Aaaargh writing this was so… argh, I don't know ;A; It was really painful to write, okay, I'm not even kidding. I had to keeping stopping, because it made me really miserable. This is probably the cruellest story I've ever written... at least, in terms of what the characters go through.  
>I'm sure they fall into serious OOC territory in here (apart from Beato, probably XD), but... urgh, given the point of this fic was 'taking my favorite character and grinding down their sense of self worth completely', I think maybe that unavoidable...<p>

Um, mainly I wrote this as a sign of solidarity with my waifu Magu-chan, who's writing some M-rated scenes in her fic _Mendacium Speculorum _(which is really good, so people should read it!) I guess this was kind of born out of a 'don't worry about your M-rated scenes, look, I can't write them decently either!' feeling? XD  
>Yeah, something like that.<p>

I was thinking about not posting it, given how dark the content is, kinda… but I let Magu-chan read it before I published it, and she reassured me that's it decent. So… I posted it. I-I hope people like it?  
>Um, yes, that's all I have to say about this.<p>

If it made you feel even a little sad, I guess it succeeded ^_^;

**~renahhchen xoxoxo**


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